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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810442">Would You Take My Scars and Make Them Your Own?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneawkwardcookie/pseuds/oneawkwardcookie'>oneawkwardcookie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Pretty canon compliant after that as well (within the scope of the AU), Serious Injuries, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Starts from 2x01, canon compliant up until 2x01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:54:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneawkwardcookie/pseuds/oneawkwardcookie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie Diaz shows up and Buck doesn’t know what to make of him – he’s like the eye of a hurricane and Buck is spinning around him, unsure and off balance. Some things are just meant to be, but that doesn't stop the universe from throwing a world of pain their way. Their scars will lead them home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>251</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Would You Take My Scars and Make Them Your Own?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Soulmate AU where you get scars from the other’s serious injuries (even if they wouldn’t actually scar), and you feel a shadow of the pain when you get it too.  If it’s serious enough and still causes pain to the original recipient, you may get twinges of the pain as well. The original person getting injured doesn’t get scarred, but they feel all the original pain when the injury occurs.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie Diaz shows up and Buck doesn’t know what to make of him – this guy that comes so highly recommended that all his teammates are swooning over him and mocking Buck in the same breath. He’s not been there for five minutes before he’s over-riding everything Buck’s ever known. He’s like the eye of a hurricane and Buck is spinning around him, unsure and off balance.</p><p>They’re back in the gym and as he starts to get into a grounding routine of lifting weights, he sees Eddie out of the corner of his eye, dancing lithely around a punching bag. Those same eyes roll to the ceiling as Eddie does a dramatic spin kick. He finds himself heading over to where Chim is quietly doing tricep dips to pick up a few more weights, glaring into Eddie’s back as he heads back over, ignoring the quiet huffing of Chim’s snorting laughter.</p><p>“You need a spot there?” Eddie’s talking to him, and he doesn’t know what to do with the dryness in his throat or the mild panic at the thought of having Eddie any nearer than he already is.</p><p>“I’m good,” he grunts, but his left shoulder twinges under his vest. It’s been years, but instinct kicks in and he massages the spot whilst silently cursing his soulmate’s luck. Chim squints at him for a moment, before going back to his exercises. Buck tries not to notice as Eddie continues to stare at him.</p><p>Later, when Buck tightens his bomb squad vest over his chest and strides into the ambulance, he thinks that Eddie glances at his shoulder when he comes in, but the bleeding leg and grenade that it contains takes over their attention.</p><p>As the man is wheeled away, Eddie turns and looks back at him, but this time he doesn’t break eye contact. The flashing lights and rumbling of gurney wheels and chatter of the people around them seem to fade to black. Buck’s never felt so…seen. They’ve got each other’s backs, a solemn promise with more weight than he meant to place on it, because you don’t disarm a bomb together without becoming irreversibly bonded. Of course, he never doubted him to start with: not for a second.</p><p>**</p><p>They slot into each other’s lives so perfectly – warm bumping shoulders and grazing knuckles as they work together, always side by side, facing the world.</p><p>The earth shakes and cracks, and in the crumbling mess of the city, they spring into action. They work together, Eddie nodding along as they have the same solution for getting to the 11th floor, holding each other up and away from the edges of broken windows and plummeting lifts. They defy death, and the thrill never seems to grow old after that.</p><p>When the crisis is over, Buck watches as Eddie slips completely into his role as a father. He’d never have guessed, even from Eddie’s concerned checking of his phone, just how much joy Christopher bought him. He can’t help the fond smile that tugs at his lips as Eddie swings Christopher around, barely concealed tears in his eyes. He sees that love again as they slide Christopher down the fireman’s pole, battle worn hands gentle and guiding. He thinks that’s the same emotion he sees in his eyes when he introduces him to Carla and gives him a way to help Christopher. It’s what he deserves; it’s what Christopher deserves too. </p><p>Eddie when he’s high is something else entirely though – so cautious and curious and emotional. It’s like he thinks he’ll break anything he touches, hands clenching and drawn close to him, and yet he can’t help but be drawn to the flame. It might be his favourite Eddie, but that’s clearly just because he’s also dosed, so it doesn’t really mean anything at all. Still, he can’t help but look on in open mouthed awe as they sit handcuffed next to each other. Tears run down Eddie’s face. It’s like the façade of control has peeled from one edge and he’s seeing behind the mirror a little, and he doesn’t know why that makes him feel a little sad. He can’t imagine an Eddie that would hurt anyone, but clearly Eddie does.</p><p>Taylor Kelly is a red-haired force of nature that explodes into their lives, but her documentary strips back the layers even further. Eddie talks about his past, about camaraderie in the army, and he thinks he can feel the same tension radiating off the screen as he can sense from Eddie, where he sits two inches away from him. Eddie never talks about the army otherwise, despite their early prodding about the silver star. He sees it come out sometimes, in the way that Eddie stands, in the way his eyes can go from straight ahead and completely focussed to horizon scanning and vigilant, in the way he doesn’t say what he feels, even when Buck can see it bleeding out from his expressive eyes or taut lips.</p><p>**</p><p>Somehow, it’s the act of leaving Abby’s house that brings a flood of memories. As he lies on Maddie’s couch, the one that seems to keep popping into his mind is their first date. A medical disaster of monumental proportions, and also the first hint that it would never work.</p><p>After he’d woken up in the hospital to see her returning into his room with a cup of coffee, the first place he’d looked was her neck. Even when he had seen there was nothing there, he had kept his eyes locked on that spot, so that he didn’t have to look directly at her and see the pity in her eyes, or the sympathy in Bobby’s expression.</p><p>Part of him, the fragments that he calls naïve and impractical, wanted a soulmate so badly, wanted her to be his soulmate, because she made him feel good about himself and he loved her with everything he could. The other part told him that it didn’t matter, and surely not everyone had soulmates that they could find in a lifetime, and that this would do, it could be enough, he could be enough.</p><p>But he hadn’t been, because she’d left, without answers or a single look back. If their relationship was a book, she’d closed that chapter, but he’d had a bookmark in there for so long that even without it, the pages were still a little bent, an echoing memory of where she’d been.</p><p>In the midnight silence, aside from the light snores from upstairs, he starts to wonder about what he really needs from his life, what he’s wanted all along, what him and Maddie had missed out on in their younger lives.</p><p>He has his job, and it feels right and good and meaningful, in ways that paper the cracks and soothe him, even when adrenaline courses through his veins and the heat teeters towards overwhelming.</p><p>He wants a home, a family that loves him, comfort and stability and the kind of soft domesticity where he doesn’t need words to be understood. He can argue to himself that the firehouse goes some way towards the first two, but the rest… The kitchen clock ticks loudly and his thoughts drift.</p><p>Eddie – a family man, a home away from home, the most steadfast person he’s ever met. Buck sucks in a cold breath, caught off guard by where his sleepy mind is taking him. He rationalises that thinking about his crew is what gets his mind to settle on Eddie. That door has been cracked open though, and he’s already pushing through before he can pull his heart from his gut and give it a good telling off.</p><p>Has he ever looked at Eddie’s neck? He racks his mind as to whether he’s ever been in such proximity to note what would be the slightest mark, but all his mind supplies him is brown eyes and fluffy hair and muscular arms – God, he’s a mess, if this is where his mind is taking him. He closes his eyes and rubs his wrist and tries to calm his mind, hoping that sleep will erase whatever tracks his trains of thought have taken.</p><p>**</p><p>Eddie’s moved on, or backwards, or something. Buck doesn’t know what to call it when you hook up with your wife again. Neither does Eddie, and he’s not sure if he’s angry or giddy at how confused Eddie seems to be at the whole thing. Either way, Buck feels both lighter and heavier than he has in a while.</p><p>He needs a distraction, from the emotions that churn inside him, and Taylor Kelly is the definition of one. He’s not becoming Buck 1.0, he’s just – taking a step back, briefly, from putting others first. He can do that, it’s definitely not an issue at all. Everyone does rebounds, he can do rebounds – light and casual and fun. He can be all those things, not least because that’s how Chim and Hen and Bobby still see him.</p><p>Once he finally talks himself into texting her, time jump starts and speeds up, and before he knows it, he’s crowding her into a bathroom stall as she bites against his neck. He hadn’t planned this, but he’s on this ride now (or rather, she is, when she pushes him back towards the sink). One quick encounter becomes another when he turns up at her work and she beckons him into the news van.</p><p>Except, he can’t help wanting more, always, and that never ends well. In this case, it ends with him standing alone in a parking lot, sweater in one hand, other hand holding up his undone pants. Buck tips his head back and sighs. Maybe he should listen to the universe, but he doesn’t know what it’s trying to tell him. Maybe he should listen to Maddie. No, that can’t be right either. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t feel everything so deeply.</p><p>**</p><p>When he’d last met Ali, he’d been too preoccupied with the crumbling building and not getting his new partner killed and trying to make it out in one piece to pay too much attention to her. Even when they’d been sitting side by side, at ground level and covered in soot, his mind hadn’t fully been there with her. He knew she was cute, and funny and confident, taking a swig from the mini bar even as the building was tilting and cracking jokes after a lift had almost decapitated them.</p><p>This time round, as they flirt in the entrance to the coffee shop, he glances down at her neck. She’s wearing a choker necklace and he thinks she notices the tentative hopefulness that flutters to the surface before he slips back into a cheeky grin, but she doesn’t say anything for the rest of the date. He keeps a hold on his heart, but he can already feel the question nagging at the back of his mind, even as he tries to not rush things.</p>
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</div><p>They hadn’t slept together when he came back from Afghanistan the second time. Things had been tense and stressful and neither of them were really there – Eddie’s mind still exploding at the silence and confusion of suburban life, and Shannon imploding with the weight of everything. Things had only gotten worse, the chasm widening until suddenly she was gone, and the valley became unpassable.</p><p>Despite the time and distance, it feels familiar when they fall back into bed: the one thing they were good at together. It’s how they used to fix all their old arguments, before Chris and war and everything else that their lives had become. But the brief high fades too quickly. Shannon shuffles herself to rest against his chest, her left shoulder pressed against his, smooth skin on skin.</p><p>There should be a scar there, a raised welt, haunted by the names of his team. He lists them off as he catches his breath, trying to hold back the new thoughts that are rising to the surface with old memories. He feels like an unexploded grenade.</p><p>He’d noticed when she first pulled her top off, but they needed this, he needed to make this work. Except, now, there’s nothing left to hold back the sinking realisation. A 20-year Eddie would have jutted his chin out, lips set, not believing that soulmates existed. But life is too cruel, and his stoic façade has been chipped away by the countless soulmates he’s met. He really hadn’t picked the right job to avoid it. Only last week, Hen and Karen had been over, Christopher playing with Denny in the living room whilst the adults sat around the dining table. He’d noticed the scar on Karen as she had reached to grab some more snacks from the kitchen cabinets, her blouse lifting a little to reveal an all too familiar starburst pattern on her lower back. When she’d turned back, Karen had spotted where his gaze had gone and shared a glance with Hen, who explained how she’d been shot through the kidney when she was younger. He’s got his own mark, straight across his trachea, almost camouflaged against his skin. In his bleaker moments, he thinks that maybe his soulmate did it to themselves. Maybe they didn’t survive it.</p><p>Shannon reaches up to softly run her fingers through his hair and he leans down in reflex to kiss her forehead. He knows that they're not meant to be, at least not cosmically. God, maybe he’s always known but he tried so damn hard to make it real. They got married so quickly and he tried to convince himself that the small scar on Shannon's knee is from when he fell off his bike when he was 8, a distant memory that he doesn’t ask his mother about and he never mentioned to Shannon. Sometimes he thinks he imagined it all.</p><p>Then he’d enlisted. He’d always worried that he’d get seriously injured, first in the army and then at the 118, and that it would hurt Shannon. He could never do that to the mother of his child, and so he prayed, to anyone that would listen, that he made it through each day unscathed. It had worked for so long, until he was falling out the sky and into what felt like hell. Only when he was back at the field hospital, trying to sit upright but hampered by the bandages and sling, did he realise Shannon would bear this mark for the rest of her life.</p><p>He still can’t find relief in this revelation. As his stomach churns, he closes his eyes and grits his teeth. He can brush it off and suck it up and deal with whatever these feelings were that rose up his oesophagus. He can make this work, for Christopher’s sake.</p>
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</div><p>As he peers over Eddie’s shoulder at the zoomed-in image of Christopher waiting in line, he thinks he can smell lilies. It’s been seventeen days since they’ve spent time alone and, whilst he doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth (or Santa, he thinks humourlessly to himself), he doesn’t understand why Shannon isn’t here. That’s who he’s smelling on Eddie. He shouldn’t be smelling Eddie, that’s not – he shouldn’t. He gives his head a little shake and focuses back on the camera screen.</p><p>Eddie turns around, and Buck swivels quickly to looking head on, matching Eddie who is now flailing as he rambles about – Shannon. Buck sneaks a glance out of the corner of his eyes but Eddie is too busy fiddling with his watch, looking anywhere but at Buck.</p><p>Even this close, eyes flitting between Eddie's eyes and neck, it’s hard to tell if it’s a weird shadow from the dancing water and Christmas lights around them, or a careless shaving cut that’ll heal in a few days, or something more. Or maybe, he pouts internally, it’s his wife laying claim to him (again).</p><p>This is fine, he shouldn’t have expected any more from this outing. Eddie wants to talk to his best friend, and he can do that: call him brother and talk about girls, even as he can’t help looking at his lips and rubbing his damp hands against his thighs. He can be – this, whilst his heart sinks into quicksand. Even the elf, who’s both mistaken and speaking his most hidden dreams, doesn’t raise his spirits much. He doesn’t ask Eddie about his neck or look there again.</p>
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</div><p>Buck is trying to hold him back, but even he can’t stop him from taking strides to where Shannon is lying on the floor. He can see from the way her legs are deathly still that there's only one way this can end and as he chokes on his words, Chimney tells him to be with his wife. Hen’s eyes are glassy as he holds onto Shannon’s hands. He doesn’t want her to speak, because nothing she can say will make this any better. She cries that she’s leaving him again and he doesn’t want to hear it, because a note was hard enough, but this? This feels like the deepest failure. She’s leaving them again and there’s no coming back from this. His mind is a hurricane, and the one thought he captures from that mess is “at least this won’t scar”. He shoves that thought, and the bile that threatens to escape from his stomach, deep within himself.</p><p>She stops breathing and he stops for a moment too. As Hen and Chimney are a flurry of movement, he can’t move. He mourns his wife, his marriage, his child's mother and what he'd thought was the love he needed and deserved. His old world has crashed into his new one and he feels like shrapnel.</p><p>**</p><p>Eddie collapses to the ground, and he thinks it's shock. There’s a scream ringing in his ear. Hen takes one look at him and half carries him into the RA unit, where he lies slumped on the seat. He can only watch helplessly as Buck screams in pain. His own legs feel like jelly, and he is numb to the hard wall behind him and the blanket that he's wrapped in and the passing of time, until Buck is being pushed into the back of the ambulance. Buck starts as the doors slam and Eddie reaches over with trembling fingers to grab hold of his hand. He whispers soothingly, trying to comfort him, but Buck’s so wild-eyed that his grip is painful. Eddie just focuses on that, because as long as he is crushing his hand, he’s alive and he’s fighting and nothing else matters.</p><p>It's 2am when he gets back home, having been herded out of the hospital by Hen and told that they’d all be back in the morning. He’d be awake then, hopefully. That word burns in Eddie’s bones, but he’s been on fire for the last few weeks, so the last night is just another bit of kindling to what rages inside him.</p><p>As much as he would love to see Christopher, even if it's just watching him sleep for a bit, he's grateful that Pepa has taken him for the night. He hobbles into the kitchen, before sitting heavily into a seat at the table. He's suddenly struck by a shooting pain in his leg, and his heart seems to stop in response.</p><p>As he scrambles to roll up his jeans, a litany of no's spill from his mouth. They die on his lips as he sees the first inch of the long red mark emerge beneath his fingers.</p><p>His mouth is still rounded and he can barely breathe. He presses his eyes together, drawing his face inwards in an effort hold back the tears but the dam groans and bursts. Now he’s both burning and drowning.</p><p>He slumps into his hands on the kitchen table and sobs, loud and heavy. He finally acknowledges the pain that he’s been avoiding feeling for the last several hours, that courses through his leg and leaves him exhausted and weak.</p><p>Buck’s injuries are nothing compared to how broken he feels. He feels like a failure again, and he sobs out the fear of what this means. He isn’t supposed to – he can’t, shouldn’t – this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, how is he going to explain this to anyone. His family – he flinches at the thought of their reaction.</p><p>Not just them though – he has scrapped and fought to build a life here, a new family that – that he loves, and he doesn’t know what this’ll mean for them. For Buck. He can’t lose him, not when he has so completely become a part of their lives, a familiar face at their home, looking out for Christopher, always there for him. But Buck has a girlfriend and he’s his best friend and his work colleague, and how could he ever be more? He doesn’t know how this knowledge won’t destroy it all.</p><p>He’s never felt more alone.</p>
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</div><p>As he drifts in and out of consciousness, Buck wonders who's got this scar. Even as he tries not to think about the extent of the damage to his leg, he realises that it’s bad, but not just for him. Underneath all the bandages and painkillers that have swaddled and numbed him, he feels the echoes of the excruciating weight of a fire-truck. He closes his eyes again.</p><p>The days blur and run, and the doctor’s prognosis and the reassurances of his sister slide off him like paint in the rain. Ali comes to pick him up from hospital in a white shirt and jean shorts, and the sight of her bare legs fills his stomach with an icy despair.</p><p>When she breaks up with him later that day, the ice starts to melt but he just feels like he's drowning instead.</p><p>**</p><p>He doesn’t know what time it is when the covers are dragged from his curled-up body. The room is immediately too bright, and he scrambles to burrow himself in his bedding again, catching a sight of Eddie standing over his bed before he shoves his head back into his pillows. Eddie doesn’t give up, because of course he doesn’t: he’s stubborn and loyal, and Buck doesn’t know which one hurts more at this point.</p><p>It might be the third or fourth attempt when Eddie manages to pull the duvet over his legs, and he just stares. Buck can only feel shame as he recaptures the duvet from Eddies’ limp fingers, the fabric provoking a mild twinge against the bare skin.</p><p>He eventually loses against Eddie’s perseverance, and trudges his way down the stairs, Eddie following behind, footsteps in sync. Buck doesn’t know how to handle his hovering as he picks up and puts down empty bottles and takeout containers, meandering around his kitchen in a daze. Eddie lurches forwards and grabs his wrists to make him stop, letting go almost immediately like he’s been burnt. Eddie’s backing up draws his attention to where Christopher is sitting on the couch.</p><p>He and Eddie both lean a little to their right as they watch Christopher, and Eddie tells him that they should go and have fun together, so that he doesn’t feel sorry for himself. He can’t bring himself to turn around and tell Eddie’s departing back that that’s not all he feels.</p>
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</div><p>It feels like they’re in the middle of the ocean, and Eddie has his back against the side of the Ferris Wheel cabin as he gently places a neck collar around the man that’s crumpled in front of him. He shifts his feet to keep his balance, but the whole thing feels like it’s one strong gust from toppling. His arm twinges, but he focuses on getting the man strapped into the basket and lowered down. He continues to ignore it until he’s back in the boat, thinking he must have brushed it against a jagged edge of something, or on the debris whilst they were working on the yacht.</p><p>As the Ferris wheel is swallowed by the ocean, he takes a moment to peel back his sleeve. He stares at the thin red strip, and swallows as he covers it back up. He hopes Buck hasn’t had to go to the hospital, with whatever has caused this. He’s not sure how Buck would have managed to get injured having pancakes or at the zoo, but he knows that Christopher has seen enough hospitals for a lifetime, and so has Buck.</p><p>The rest of the day is relentless, and Eddie finds himself tensing up, body aching with exhaustion. He’s finally handed Lena back to her crew when he sees Buck. The confusion is quickly overridden by concern, eyes scanning and hands hovering over him, taking in the scratched face, soaked trousers, bandaged arm, the glasses around his neck. Buck is on the verge of tears and he doesn’t understand the words coming out of his mouth. He can’t look at him, biting his lip as his head starts to move in a silent no, except he catches sight of Christopher and his legs are stumbling past Buck before he can even register the apologies that are spilling out behind him.</p><p>Only when Christopher is back in his arms does he look back. Bobby, Hen and Chim have joined Buck, but he can only stare in horror at Buck’s arm. He thinks Bobby's eyes widen in recognition, but then Buck collapses into Hen's arms. He clutches onto Christopher tighter and feels the world swim before his eyes.</p>
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</div><p>The day of the tsunami is blurry in Buck’s mind, washed out in reds and blues, and he doesn’t try too hard to remember either. His mind seems to keep clicking back to when Christopher was found. Eddie looked at him in a way that was … something. There was something there and he doesn’t know what.</p><p>The grey parts of him want to call it anger, disgust, disappointment, but he knows that those are things he’s projecting from himself and things that Eddie doesn’t feel. He has to keep telling himself that, drawing on the morning’s conversation when Eddie dropped Christopher off and told him, hand pressed up against his neck, thumb grazing towards the middle, that he trusted him. He has to believe that, because actions speak louder than words, especially with Eddie, and Christopher playing with Lego on his living room floor is indisputable proof.</p><p>He still doesn’t feel worthy of holding Eddie’s world in his hands.</p><p>**</p><p>They were sitting across from each other, but the conference room table felt like it was miles long, expanses of polished wood and piles of papers between them. Eddie tugged at his sleeve as he talked to Buck, words harsh and antagonistic, but his eyes were… pleading?</p><p>The image replays in Buck’s mind as he sits on his couch, two  empty beer bottles in front of him. He knows he shouldn’t be drinking but he’s truly alone and the promise of looking after himself so that he can be well enough to return to his previous life has shattered. He’s mid-way through not really paying attention to an episode of a nature documentary when he’s hit with a wave of pain, radiating from his nose. He immediately brings his hand up, thinking he’s given himself a nosebleed, but his fingers come away clean. Still, he feels himself reeling. When he wakes up with that ache still echoing across his face, he throws away the rest of the six-pack.</p><p>**</p><p>He’s welcomed back warmly by Hen, and somewhat less warmly by Chimney, but both make a joke about having a broken nose to go with his bruise-like birthmark. Buck can’t bring himself to smile, and the rest of the day feels like he’s putting on a show, fake cheer that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.</p><p>When Eddie’s not staring straight into the windows of his soul, his eyes are resting on his nose, the hurt expression seeming to melt into an inscrutable emotion as he forgives him and Buck can only grin widely as Eddie bridges the gap between them and falls into his arms. They both wince at the same time, as Buck presses into Eddie’s side and something on Eddie’s shirt presses up against his shoulder, but Eddie pulls away and doesn’t look at him. </p><p>The moment disappears as quickly as it had arrived, and he’s being sent home before he has a chance to catch up with Eddie again.</p>
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</div><p>The shift is coming to an end and they’re all hanging around the seating area. Hen and Chimney are spread across the couch in front of the TV, Hen perched on one arm and Chimney sprawled with one of his legs hooked across the other arm. They still manage to throw elbows and silly remarks at each other as they play a video game that he’s seen Buck play with Hen before. Eddie smiles over his mug of coffee, as he sits carefully in his seat, taking care not to lean against the back too hard.</p><p>There’s no warning for the pain this time. Chim and Hen both spin round, game forgotten, at the shattering of ceramic against tile. He can only look down at his hands and arms, until he feels Hen come up behind him, leaning over the back of Eddie’s chair to take a look at his hands.</p><p>“Did you get anything on you?”</p><p>Eddie doesn’t think he can feel any burning, but it’s like he’s got a million small cuts across his forearms. He looks up in confusion and doesn’t know what to answer. Hen shoots Chimney a look and slowly backs away towards Bobby’s office, disappearing from sight, as Chimney sweeps up around him. He still feels unable to move or talk.</p><p>**</p><p>They’re back in the gym, and it feels like a century since the two of them worked out together, although this time the atmosphere is far less tense, and Buck and Eddie aren’t on opposite sides of whatever rivalry they might have had. They’re back together, where they belong, but the jigsaw pieces don’t quite seem to fit like they used to.</p><p>Buck is still cracking jokes and casually doing shoulder presses, his arm and back muscles flexing under his tank top and a sheen of sweat across his brow. Eddie’s going to town on the boxing bag, shuffling his back towards him to duck and weave, throwing right punches and left kicks.</p><p>“Looking a bit overheated there.”</p><p>Buck can only be talking to him but he still can’t turn to face him, feeling his skin flush and knowing that Buck will be able to see how red his neck looks above his hoodie.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he mumbles. He finishes up quickly after that, not wanting to bump into Buck in the showers or when changing.</p><p>**</p><p>Bobby finds out, because of course he does. It’s just another way that Eddie feels like he’s losing control of everything in his life. He knew it would catch up to him and he waits for the disappointment and judgement, that he isn’t able to just suck it up and be the father and friend and firefighter he needs to be.</p><p>Instead, Bobby sits him down and asks him his side of the story about the fight club, and he’s spilling his guts and tears before he can hold them back. He tells him about how he needs to be there for his son because he’s all that Christopher has, and Christopher is all that he’s got too. His voice, whilst choked, is insistent as he stresses that he’s got it under control. He’d only given out a few hairline fractures and gotten bruised ribs and a broken nose in return. Bobby’s eyes narrow for a second, before returning to the fond and patient look he had on before.</p>
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</div><p>Christopher had been invited to the Nash-Grants for a last-minute sleepover, and both Hen and Bobby had shooed Eddie away after he’d dropped Christopher off. Buck can’t help but laugh at the scowl that still plays across Eddie’s face, but he knows that he’s no one to talk: if it were up to him, Christopher would never leave his sight. That knocks the smile off his face, and he fiddles with the label on his beer bottle.</p><p>He starts to talk about Maddie, to take his mind off where it’s starting to go again and because the only person he wants to talk about these things with is Eddie. In spite of himself, he finds himself voicing how difficult it is to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, and he talks into his bottle about not being around to see that they need saving.</p><p>When he glances up, Eddie’s eyes flicker through confusion and realisation, before they’re guarded again. The look scares him and only makes him want to push harder. He’s apologising again, his feet taking him a few steps nearer to Eddie, who can’t quite maintain eye contact and tells him they’re way past that.</p><p>“I’m not!” He urges, and that draws Eddie’s eyes back to his face. His eyes have softened a little, but they’re tempered by the attempt at humour that Buck can’t help but respond to.</p><p>“Things got a little out of hand for both of us.” He’s not looking away now and Buck feels a coil of heat swirl around his stomach. He’d already had a few beers earlier in the evening and it shoves him into blurting out what’s on his mind, and the room seems to tilt with the change in momentum. He feels on the offensive now and Eddie’s back to ducking and weaving, until Buck has crowded himself up into his space. Eddie smirks and takes another sip of his beer, swallowing heavily, and Buck can’t help but look down. He sees his scar.</p><p><i>Their scar</i>, his mind gives him, the nearest thing to a coherent thought. He’s clearly been staring because when he looks up, Eddie’s smirk around his beer bottle has been replaced by a look of concern and mild panic, and he’s no longer looking in his eyes but fixated on his nose.</p><p>The moment drags and the pieces start to fit together, and Eddie’s starting to absently tug at his left sleeve again, eyes searching his for answers.</p><p>“Wait.”</p><p>He takes a small step back and grabs at Eddie’s left wrist, stilling him. Eddie swallows again and Buck’s other hand comes up to brush against his neck before his rational brain can tell him that this is ridiculous and inappropriate. The pulse under both his fingertips convinces him it’s not.</p><p>“I had to have a tracheotomy.” Buck’s voice sounds gravelly in his own ears, blood pounding and throat dry.</p><p>“The tsunami,” Eddie whispers, his neck bobbing under Buck’s thumb, “your arm.” Eddie brings his hand up to pull his sleeve up, and Buck feels a weird sense of déjà vu as his fingers trace over the line, like adding to an old memory or seeing something that he’d only ever imagined.</p><p>“Your nose –”</p><p>“Fight club.”</p><p>“Of course: fight club.” A hysterical laugh bubbles out, and Eddie joins in with a sheepish chuckle, before his mouth straightens and he reaches for Buck’s shoulder. He winces a little as Eddie pushes his hoodie to the side and mirrors his exhale as he sees his own scar, red against white.</p><p>“Afghanistan.” Eddie nods, tears welling in his eyes and he traces his hand down to circle gently around Buck’s left wrist. This time, when Buck pulls him in for a tight hug, the shadows of the past don’t seem to hurt anymore.</p>
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</div><p>The shop is adorned with heart-shaped bunting all year round, and Eddie has passed it every time he’s driven to work, his reaction alternating between longing and scoffing. This time, as he makes his way into the tattoo parlour, he can’t help feeling nervous. Buck squeezes his hands and bumps shoulders, and he feels himself calm a little, watching as Buck flashes a smile at the tattoo artist in front of them and tells her their names.</p><p>He feels the loss of Buck’s warmth when they have to separate. He can feel the staff’s eyes on him as he takes off his shirt, but he only has eyes for Buck, who still takes his breath away every time he sees him, sees his scars. His heart feels full.</p><p>Once they’re settled onto the beds, Eddie reaches his hand back out, and it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist, as they watch the other get their mark, fingers intertwined.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><ul>
<li>Just…don’t look at the rules too closely: it’s all just a premise.</li>
<li>We’re sticking with the version of Hen’s back story that suits this story</li>
<li>I may have realised too late that Eddie was also shot in his wrist, and I still can’t work out where the third bullet went so we’re going for two in the shoulder and one on the wrist </li>
<li>I initially was going to give Buck way more injuries, just in less obvious places, and have him keep a book with the injuries in them, which he would go through in the kitchen with Eddie, only to have Eddie start to recite along with him for the tsunami and windshield scar. I decided against it, because a) I’m unimaginative and would get bogged down in research for injuries and b) I didn’t want to hurt him anymore than canon already has </li>
<li>Eddie gets three bands around his right arm – it’s to represent the three of them, and it’ll be the third time that Buck gets a mark of his.</li>
<li>Buck gets a heart on his left shoulder, sitting below where Eddie’s gunshot wound is and above his own heart. When Eddie’s in a good mood, they’ll call each Scarecrow and Tin Man, but Buck’s always quick to kiss at that spot and tell him that they have each other’s hearts and that Eddie’s got more heart than anyone he knows. Eddie brushes against his temple and tells him he’s far smarter than anyone knows.</li>
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